


Nightswimming

by LoversAntiquities



Series: Codas [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birthday, Car Sex, Inspired by Music, M/M, Season/Series 09, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 22:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<i>I found a way to make you smile.</i>"</p><p>A 9x10 Coda</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightswimming

Whoever the previous owner of the Continental was, they had a rather extensive collection of compact discs from what he suspected were previous owners. That would explain the assortment of weaponry under the bench in the back, along with a wide array of wallets. Perhaps he should return them one day, or whenever the next time he remembered was. Right now wasn't his priority. He had other slightly pressing matters to attend to.

Like, discerning the coordinates he had received via text message nearly five hours ago. The location was at an approximate of six hours outside of Lebanon in a southeasterly direction –city destination, unknown. All he had were a set of numbers and enough gas to get there without incident. Sam had it drilled in his head to keep the tank at least half full, in anticipation that something like _this_ would happen.

But Sam didn't know what _this_ was. In fact, he probably didn't even realize he was gone, and wouldn't unless he visited the library the following morning. He’d informed the younger Winchester that he would be spending his night researching materials on how to track Angel’s while he slept. _You should rest_ , he had told him. And he did without hesitation, disappearing inside his room. That was at ten –it was now nearing the later half of three. Every star shown bright beyond the illumination of the Lincoln’s headlights as he drove down the backwoods of Oklahoma, passing a nearby sign that welcomed entrants to Arkansas.

Was this where Dean was, in the middle of nowhere Arkansas? He hadn’t heard from the man in nearing two weeks. No word to him, to Sam, to anyone they were vaguely aware would know of them. Crowley hadn’t even made an appearance. Admittedly, he was worried –what if something had become of him after he had sped off that night? He could have been sprawled out dead in a field somewhere. A twitch ran up his neck at the images that flashed through his mind. No, that wasn’t true. If he were seriously injured, he wouldn’t have been able to text him, now, would he?

His destination was fifteen minutes out, the route now taking him down dirt roads, trees surrounding the vehicle on both sides. Absently, he lowered the volume of one of the discs in the player, choosing to listen to the sound of the wind passing his open window. It was brisk outside; the forecasts called for clear skies and temperatures nearing thirty-degrees overnight. It was somewhere near that now, steam evaporating from the tailpipe in his rearview. It would only drop from there.

The GPS on the cellphone in the cup holder alerted to him that he had arrived at his destination –the dirt road opened up to a vast field, the low moon’s glow bouncing off the surface of a still lake in the distance. Before that was the outline of the black behemoth that Dean affectionately called his Baby, paint turned near liquid under the sky, and for a brief moment he thought he could see the stars reflected off its surface.

Castiel pulled to a stop next to the Impala and parked, shutting off the rattling engine. Nearing the lake, he spotted the silhouette of a man standing on a dock, arms crossed, steam escaping with every breath. It was… peaceful, he had to admit. The figure never once moved after he exited his vehicle and slammed the door closed, never once acknowledging his presence as he treaded the worn wood of the dock, water lapping at the mossy beams and grassy shoreline.

His feet stopped within five feet of him. “Dean,” he spoke, loud enough to be heard within the space.

There was no initial response, only a barely audible sigh. “Didn’t think you’d make it.”

A roll of eyes. “I always come when you call. We haven’t heard from you in two weeks, Sam was starting to get worried.”

“Ain’t he always?” Dean huffed with shivered breath. “I was busy, didn’t really have time to call.”

Castiel hung his head. This conversation wasn't going anywhere. “What did you want?”

Eyebrows quirked in half-subdued interest as Dean, still facing the lake, began to strip off his jacket and combinations of shirts, tossing them to the dock. “Needed a break. I’m goin’ swimming, you in?”

“It’s thirty-three degrees, _Dean_. You’ll freeze.”

His shoes, socks and pants were next. A flush spread across his face; he averting his eyes at the sight. He shouldn't be here. “Suit yourself, birdy.”

With the departure of his boxers, Dean dove headfirst into the stagnant lake, Castiel rushing after him to stand at the very edge. Within three seconds, the man surfaced, sputtering nonsensical words while shaking out his hair. “You’ll catch pneumonia if you stay in there.”

“Does it look like I care?” Dean laughed, genuinely. It wasn't like him –was something wrong? Last he had seen, his soul had a soured countenance. He was gleaming now, burning with excitement and adrenaline. The cold must have been having that effect on him. “C’mon Cas, you can’t tell me you’ve never gone swimming at night?”

“I haven’t gone swimming at _all_ ,” he deadpanned, folding his arms defensively. A short breeze blew past, ruffling the tail of his coat. “I’ve never seen the need to do so.”

“What, are you a rock?” The topic was touchy; neither were willing to recall, or let on that they remembered the _last_ visit to a reservoir. “Get in here, I _promise_ I won’t let you sink.”

That wink was all the warning he got before Dean began to swim nearer to the dock. Instinctively he backed away, knowing full and well his intentions –he would pull him in if he didn't join him. That would only lead to wet clothing, a sensation he didn't exactly feel comfortable with. Though he supposed no one did. Instead, he opted to shed his coat, tossing it atop Dean’s pile, moving next to the blazer. Deft fingers undid the buttons of the dress shirt. “You are an _insane_ man, Dean Winchester, and I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“You know you love me, now get your ass in here!”

It was meant to be a joke on the surface; the sharp flare in his soul betrayed the lightheartedness of his words, though. Somewhere in there was the truth. “I do, but that’s not the point.”

Dean’s face went slack –so it was out there. Neither spoke a word. The moment he toed off his shoes and stacked his pants atop the rest of his garments, Castiel stepped in, water rushing up past his head. The claustrophobia of water nearly got the better of him, until he felt a hand gripping his forearm tight, hoisting him back to the surface. He didn't need to breathe, no, but he still found himself gasping once he touched air, cold seeping into his skin. How _was_ Dean ignoring the shrill _pain_? “Y’okay there?” he asked, concern clear as day on his face.

He nodded somewhat frantically, clinging desperately to Dean’s shoulder with one hand. Beneath them, the ground had disappeared, replaced only with the occasional brush of plant life and a passing, curious fish against their toes. Dean shook the water from his hair playfully, brushing a stray strand away from his eyes.

Something about that was beautiful. Whether it was the midnight scenery or the man before him, moonlight gleaming off his features, it radiated peace. Contentment. Something probably neither of them had felt purely in _years_. A lazy smile quirked his lips; Dean’s own shown teeth. “You’re freezing.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a moment killer?”

“What moment are you trying to create?”

It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. “Can you shut up for five minutes? You’re ruinin’ the quiet.”

With a silent huff he did as he was told, watching as Dean pushed back and dove under the water, surfacing feet away in the distance, bare chest and head the only things rising up. In the background, a lone cricket chirped somewhere along the tree line. Birds had long since flown south. Frogs were mysteriously absent. Dean’s voice broke the abysmal silence, barely coming above a whisper, almost a prayer. “…Did you mean it?”

Castiel took that as his cue and waved his way over, coming within a foot of Dean and mimicking his position. Listlessly they stared up at the stars, ignoring the chill of the lake, the night air biting angrily at their skin. “About loving you?” Dean closed his eyes in confirmation. “I do.”

“…How long?”

“Long enough,” was his only reply. “I never felt it relevant to necessitate, though. And I felt there was little chance you would reciprocate.”

Dean sighed, the lack of air temporarily sinking him lower. “You… You should’ve told me sooner.”

Castiel turned his head faintly, catching Dean’s apprehension. Features tightened, jaw clenched, hands probably twitching under the lake’s surface. “Are you saying that it’s requited?”

If it was, Dean would never verbally admit it. His actions spoke the volumes that his lips would never dare to speak. Under the watchful eyes of the sky, he was downright bashful, failing to hide the flush of nervousness across his cheeks. “Let’s say I do,” he finally mumbled, forcing himself vertical. Castiel continued his watch. “What would you do?”

Blue eyes turned back to the stars. “What do humans do when they share mutual affections?”

Scrubbing a wet hand across his face, Dean suppressed a chuckle. “You’re kidding, right? You’ve been here for _how_ long, and you don't know how this works?”

“I’ve been alive for millennia, Dean. I had more pressing matters to attend to.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘pressing matters.’ You’ve never felt like that about _anyone_ else?”

He shook his head, earning a few ripples. “Just you.”

“Oh.”

Their sighs echoed each other, Dean’s more audible than his own. Above them, the sky remained a constant, the lights of a plane flitting in and out, a heron breaking the silence with a flap of its wings overhead. A fish nipped at his toes. “What would you do if I wanted to kiss you?”

Briefly, he felt his heart flutter, initially thinking it weird. To that day, he still didn't understand his vessel’s reactions, even after maintaining a human state for those few months. But he recognized that one, after spending a second to think. _Want_. His silence was forcing Dean to backtrack, to take back his words and curl in on himself on fear of being rejected; he had to say _something_. “I’d let you.”

Another ‘oh.’ Dean was still looking away, freckles showing brightly against cold bitten skin. “You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Castiel spoke softly, shifting across their partially shared space to place a hand on Dean’s cheek; he fell into the touch absently, body seeking the comfort of one single action. Tension slowly alleviated itself the closer he moved, until the first tentative press of lips tore it all away.

The first transitioned to the second, upon which Dean cupped the back of his neck, fingers toying with the soft curls of his hair with each additional kiss. Castiel sighed against his lips, carding his fingers through the short strands on Dean’s head and trailing them to caress the stubble dotting his chin. He hadn’t shaved in a while, something telling of the life he had been living in the past two weeks. He was surprised he didn't smell alcohol on his breath.

Another kiss, and Castiel felt a shiver run through the human’s body. “You’re still cold.”

Dean snorted. “How warm’s your car?”

Why _his_ car? As he recalled, the Impala was a near constant furnace. “Decent.”

“Good, I’ll race you there!”

And Dean took off, bolting towards the dock and managing to pull himself up by the time Castiel had realized what had happened. His heart was still racing timidly, the faint sensation of Dean’s lips lingering behind; if he smiled then, no one else knew. Hoisting himself up and gathering their clothes, he joined Dean by the Continental, the hunter offering him one of the two towels that he had perched on his trunk, next to where their clothes now sat; he had set the whole thing up, hadn’t he? He wouldn't put it past Dean to have thought that far ahead.

Some of the residual heat from the drive over still wafted around the interior of the vehicle, and turning the key far enough to start the electronics before turning the engine over gave new life to the air. Dean was sprawled out in the backseat, towel underneath his lap, an odd glint in emerald eyes. “Dude, is that R.E.M.?”

Volume nearly off, he could still make out the faint sounds of a piano solo in the crackling speakers. “I was listening to the CD’s I found in the trunk. Does it bother you?”

It was another few seconds before Dean conceded and responded, “Leave it on. Get back here.”

Castiel complied wordlessly, closing the driver’s door and crawling into the backseat, slamming it behind him. Once partially settled, Dean took him by his wrist, dragging him to straddle his waist across the bench, one hand splayed over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

Dean _smirked_. “Finishing what we started. Remember two minutes ago?”

Oh, right. The hunter resumed their former pace, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other trailing down his back in an effort to pull him closer. With a contented breath, Castiel obliged and lowered his head. This was nice, different than what he had originally imagined during those nights alone, where only memories could keep him company. But this was real –this was within touching distance, concrete and tangible, miles of chilled skin and a warm mouth all calling out to _him_ , no one else.

With some reluctance, he took the initiative and broke their closest contact to begin a new. Small, chaste kisses were pressed to Dean’s forehead, each eyelid, the tip of his nose, cheeks, all with adoration. The hunter’s lack of understanding bled through his skin, a barely noticeable whimper sounding in his throat. “You never let yourself rest,” Castiel began, pressing lips to the shell of his ear. “You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, and you never allow yourself to realize your true worth.”

Dean tilted his head back, matted hair soaking the towel as Castiel continued his path down, sucking soft kisses along his chin, neck, and coming to rest along his collar, all while the hunter half protested with mutters of his name. Palms stroked down his torso, thumbs circling his naval. “You never let anyone see the real you,” a press to his shoulder, “the you who wears his heart on his sleeve,” Adam’s apple, “the one who cares more than he’s willing to admit,” the tattoo, “the one who loves unconditionally, no matter the circumstances.”

“Cas…”

“You never allow yourself love, because you feel they will betray you in the end.” A shiver jumped across Dean’s skin as he pressed an open kiss to his stomach, licking a short path into his naval. “You don’t like becoming attached, because you feel they’ll leave you.” Another whimper, this one failing to be restrained. “You are worthy of admiration, of warmth, of _love_ , Dean. I only wish you could see that.”

The hunter covered his eyes with his arm. “D-Don’t say shit like that…”

 “But it’s true. You just won’t allow yourself to believe it.” By the time he had progressed to his hip, Dean was already nearing half-hard, just from simple touches. Fingers softly stroked across the flesh, earning a curt sob. “You crave the things you won’t allow yourself. You want someone to touch you and mean it, you want the affection of family, of a lover, but whenever they get too close, you distance yourself.” Wet kisses trailed bare skin and short hairs, the final being placed at his head.

And Dean was _gone_ , reduced to shaking sighs and quiet sobs. “Let me give this to you, Dean.”

Castiel had no intentions of making this a quick fling, something forgettable over a night’s time. No, this would be a permanent reminder of their years together, the things they’d been through, the words that had been left unsaid since the first time he set eyes on his soul. There was no desperation in the way began at his head, lips and tongue teasing and eventually progressing down his length, all while the hunter wound his fingers around the still-damp strands of hair, nearly petting him. Castiel purred at the action, tracing his tongue across the slit of his head and earning another whine.

Another few seconds left him hard and weeping against his stomach, the owner’s toes curled into the leather seats and the floorboard, where his foot had fallen mid-way. Castiel returned to his face in one slow, agonized motion, removing Dean’s arm from his eyes and licking away the tears that had spilled down into his hair. “Believe me when I say that I want what’s best for you. That I love you, heart and soul.”

“You don’t mean that.” His reply was sharp, wavering. Castiel pressed down on his hip in defiance. “You can’t…”

“I do.” With a long, drawn out kiss that he could have sworn they’d drown in, he pulled back and pressed their foreheads together. “You’ll come to believe that.”

In swift desperation, Dean nearly dug his fingers into Castiel’s shoulder as he shifted to reach into the floorboards for something he _knew_ was there. He found it under the front seat during an earlier assessment of the vehicle; it had most likely slid into the back going up a steep incline. “I’m not leaving you,” he reassured, smoothing his palm over Dean’s damp cheek. Who knew such tender actions could render the outspoken man completely _speechless_?

“So was this your plan?” Dean attempted to joke, his attempt dying out halfway. “Get me all worked up and have your way with me?”

“You know that’s not how it is,” he scolded, nudging Dean’s legs open with his knee, pulling his thigh over his own. The hunter watched half-lidded, Castiel popping the cap of the conveniently found bottle of lube and spreading the cold material on his fingers. At the first touch, Dean shivered. “I assume you’ve done this before?”

“You’d know,” Dean retorted and turned his head away.

Castiel directed him back to his eyes, leaving a soft kiss on his temple. “I want you to look at me.”

So Dean did, however brief it was before Castiel pressed the first of his finger inside, waiting to see if he’d show any signs of wanting out. With all his heart, he hoped he would allow him to carry on –he needed to do this, to _prove_ to Dean that everything he had spoken before was the truth. That he wasn't lying; nothing could bring him to anymore. Only with his approval did he proceed, crooking his finger in the rest of the way before pulling out to repeat the motion.

During which he made sure they never lost eye contact, Dean’s breathy moans crossing his skin until he kissed them away. The slightest hint of tongue against his lip, and the hunter willingly gave Castiel admittance, deepening their kiss as he rocked now-two fingers into his hole. Hips bucked in shock, fingers clawed into his skin at the feather-light touches to his prostate, body strung taught in shock. A third, and he succumbed to a writhing mess.

And _somehow_ he was still able to taunt. “You’re takin’ too damn long,” Dean breathed into his ear, hooking his other knee around Castiel’s waist, nudging him closer.

“You enjoy it like this,” he responded with a rough jab, Dean nearly shouting obscenities into the roof.

“If you keep teas _ing_ , I won’t last much longer…”

“I enjoy seeing your face like this, though,” Castiel smirked. Slowly he removed his fingers, taking the bottle in his hands again and slicking his neglected erection with the material, before closing and tossing it back to the floorboards. With a final press to his lips and one hand dug into the towel nearest his head, Castiel guided himself in, watching the former complacent look on the hunter’s face change to pained bliss behind closed eyes. As soon as he stilled, he kissed the tear that strayed away.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered against his mouth. “All of you, every part of you, deserves to be loved.”

The first thrust had Dean whimpering from just the tenderness of it, everything about it slow and methodical, breaking him apart at the core. Castiel purred and continued his pace, sucking a mark into his collarbone, making _sure_ he’d remember this in the morning, whenever he looked at himself in the mirror given the chance. He needed to remember –to know someone was waiting for him, someone who would love him unconditionally through time. Someone who wouldn't leave him, not again.

They _had_ been through too much together –that would never change.

Dean held on tighter, keeping one hand embedded into his shoulder blade, the other holding tight to his hip, beckoning Castiel on, mouth daring not to speak his wants. But Castiel knew every one of them.

The rhythm changed then, one sharp thrust earning an abrupt moan and Dean’s back arching off the bench in outright pleasure. The speed had the hunter chanting his name –his _real_ name— fervently, crying out praises he had probably never once spoken to anyone else. And Castiel devoured them all, sinking his fingers into whatever skin he could reach, driving his cock into his prostate in relentless succession until Dean seized in the suddenness of his orgasm, head falling back, mouthing out a soundless scream. White roped onto his chest, all signs of breath leaving his body with his release.

Through clenched muscles Castiel powered through, fingers digging into thighs; within a half dozen thrusts he met Dean over the edge, spilling into him with an exhausted whimper.

With heaving breaths they collapsed into each other, sharing spilled breaths through the softest of kisses, the gentlest of touches until Castiel managed the strength to slip out, now opting to curl up against Dean’s side, a hand spread across his heart. In the still of the night and the silencing of their breaths, Dean maneuvered them onto their sides, curling an arm around Castiel’s back and pulling him flush against him.

He couldn't help it –he smiled, a small thing, but there nonetheless. “You’re sticky.”

“And whose fault is that?” Dean sneered. Brushing a hand across his cheek, he pressed their foreheads together. “…Why did you come tonight?”

“It’s your birthday.” Dean stiffened at the mention, lowering his gaze. “I didn’t want you have to be alone.”

A sigh. “Look I… I appreciate the thought Cas, I really do… But you didn’t ha—.”

Castiel pressed the tip of his finger to his mouth. “I wanted to. You don’t deserve to be alone today.”

Another kiss, this time neither of them willing to let go. Doing so would mean they would have to go on their separate ways again. Dean wouldn't go back to the bunker until he finished whatever mission he was on. And there was no way he would let anyone he cared about be around him, in fear of the fate that ultimately befell anyone he treasured. But tonight, tonight they had each other. “…Thanks, Cas.”

“Happy birthday, Dean.”

 

_—I found a way to_  
_I found a way_  
_A way to make you smile_

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song "Nightswimming" by R.E.M.  
> The song that's playing in the Continental is "At My Most Beautiful" by the same band. (It's also super sappy if you listen and read at the same time.)
> 
> It's so cute I'm gonna die.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/loversantiquity).


End file.
